


uncharted

by Aquaphobe



Series: un-titled [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Awkwardness, Cute Kids, Dandelions, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Okay but consider this, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, being a 10 year old is hard guys, can be read as a standalone/one-shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 15:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16244087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquaphobe/pseuds/Aquaphobe
Summary: It's while he's bending down to retrieve his hat that he spots it, peeking out of a shallower spot of snow like its shy.A hundred bright yellow petals, fanned out like a tiny little mane. Crinkly, raggedy green leaves nipped at by frost, the same exact shade as Tweek's eyes. Small, scrunched up, and totally ignorant of the fact that it's out when it shouldn't be.





	uncharted

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is in part a gift to everyone that's supported me up until now, and helped _unresolved_ reach 2000 reviews, but it was also very much driven into existence by [this lovely bit of art here](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/fuZ_JwetruMTACeEZiUUB7HTkhPbogeFia6a3pxORKahtgYnOPtfIwlVMXAE3e0S4ni1iSDVYjRSMKHodbT4Hx1nZe3P5e_y9EJ4zKkJe9HcVNSNTvooXctY8-hbt0eR0eL6-JOVeJzfLvavWXHbXHFGm3L_reN7w90A3inXXAQHKDufrGZaPqJ6ZgoA_fr6gohDF5O9eIqk3JDTxNL7o--favDSbw-tA0RJQ14_q_v6Lj-cqwUL0FEqYL3T2IgxLi6xLmrxqcIRCMLR-0g7UdHqfxlnNdTLptrAeuGN4IvP2mGAns0BEOD4iJ1zwVxh52uFGKTZP6cMDfZnKNjfiozyhyOswP7S--bkWsTedTIkqfGaPfjAlBuJRmmIerOLxoTMAxFn5GW_MP7TJh6-2bxU4FsI7nPMY1oVRGrCtadPFaUbMQLMDHdkNeCdZyzCwIodvLb0Ok6Oo9YG36oLz9A0PNN8HyhQaD_husqzBM3e__gdHWCczldWM9eb58B-ARr3yJF3iN1YDVPvTR-DESVFSxY1uehk9M6jpRkOn9QpAGp7Tg69X8_lz0JWAPlpE0A3Mmo1CpU1VNatD0DKvqrN58TYpksM3usvBwSJW7IidPnEVqVU4acktoSNKezV7Gv9WqNohvAZYrV9n_Triq_1EX-npYfHhw=w575-h766-no), by Tamyli. <33
> 
> i said i'd wait to upload anything Craig-centric, but... i couldn't resist. hehe ;)))

It starts in the snow, like most things in South Park do.

There's about two feet of it, piled up around the edge of Stark's Pond, burying everything alive. The surface of the pond is whitewashed. There are thick, blinding flurries of snowflakes floating down around them, and the clouds are an oppressive, churning grey above their heads.

Craig is busy kicking at a snow pile, while his three closest friends do their own thing. Last he saw, Clyde was bawling over a taco he dropped in a drift, Token was half-heartedly making a snowman, and Tweek was...

( _Red cheeks against white_.)

( _Blonde hair like a messy yellow birds nest_.)

( _Green eyes, bright and shining_.)

Well. Tweek was being Tweek.

Craig looks up, black boot wedged ankle-deep in the snow. Peers over his shoulder at the area where the blonde had been a moment earlier, and...

Yep. There he is, freaking out and pointing at something off in the distance, on the other side of the Pond. He finished his coffee on the way here, so it can't be anything to do with that. After shooting the area in question a quick glance (because it pays to be careful in South Park) and discovering that it is, unsurprisingly, bereft of anything even vaguely interesting, Craig turns back to his stuck boot. Jiggles it, as he listens to the muffled wails of a mourning Clyde, and the earsplitting shrieks of the jittery blonde.

"He to-old me, let the children lose it, l-let the children use it, let all the -  _GAH_  - children boogie!"

Pauses a moment, and does a double take. He's not sure Tweek  _is_ freaking out, actually. The other boy's sort of bobbing his head to a silent tune, and he's switched hands, now pointing with the other one. Is... is he singing... a David Bowie song? A little tickle of laughter sneaks its way up and out of his throat. His mouth makes a twisted, failed attempt at a smile, and it's that exact moment that Tweek spins around for the second verse, and catches Craig deadass staring at him.

Suffice it to say, the dark haired boy looks away as quick as he can. His face feels sort of warm.

Truth is, Craig's starting to think he could watch Tweek Tweak every day for an eternity and still find out new things about him, weird as that sounds. He doesn't really understand why he's invested in the blonde boy, but he is. The fight they were pitted against one another in a while back now by the Fatass and his little Band of Fuckups actually ended up making him another friend. Go figure.

(Sitting bloody, bruised and broken in the sterile hospital room hadn't given them much to do after the first few days, other than get over their anger and actually talk. Or in Tweek's case, screech.)

Even out here doing nothing important and hating the way the cold is spreading like poison up his limbs from his fingers and toes, Craig knows he's gonna hang around 'til the others get bored and want to go home. Considering the fact that the mall's closed and that almost everyone's stuck inside because of the snow, it'll probably take a little while.

Basically he's stuck out here, willingly freezing to death while the rest of the world is tucked up inside, toasty warm. Goddamnit.

There was never a possibility he'd say no to them, when an hour ago he was sat in front of the television watching  _Red Racer_  with Stripe the Third, and his dumb friends had come knocking, Tweek in tow. If it hadn't been for the blonde, wrapped head-to-foot in a funky looking scarf, a plaid sweater and fuzzy earmuffs (it seems that the only time that Tweek dresses in anything other than a single, thin green shirt is when a blizzard rolls its destructive force through the small town), then Craig would have undoubtedly told them to shove the whole thing up their asses. But Tweek had tilted his head back to make eye-contact— and had smiled at him.

Hell, he'd smiled, done this weird twitch thing with his cheek and slurped at his takeaway coffee, and Craig had been unable to tell him no. He'd been helpless.

So, here he is, shivering and feeling miserable, and it's all the blonde kid's fault for being so openly cheery - especially after Craig saved him from dropping his coffee as they crossed an icy patch of sidewalk on the walk out. Thinking about it, the fact he got his way so easily in regards Craig coming with them, and didn't spill his coffee all over himself… those things are probably the reason he's singing. He wants to rub in his happiness, just to piss Craig off. Clearly he doesn't know that Craig, for some inexplicable reason,  _likes_  seeing the blonde happy.

(It makes Craig's legs feel sort of weak when he's on the receiving end of that smile, and he doesn't get it.)

All he knows is that everything sucks.

With another vicious kick of the snow bank that has enveloped his entire boot, the impenetrable wall of white caves in and Craig – unbalanced – topples over with a startled yelp.

Getting a mouthful of snow for the effort is not really what he'd been aiming for.

Spluttering, he drags himself up, cheeks hot and face thunderous. God fucking damn it.

" _Augh_. Craig, oh  _Jesus_. A-are you—  _nnf_ — are you alright?"

He has all of three seconds to brace for impact, before another body (no longer singing, he notes distantly) comes flying at him. Predictably, Tweek loses his footing, ends up starfish-ing mid-air and rams into Craig's shoulder, bowling him right back over.

This time it's worse though, because now there's an elbow in his face and a knee digging into his stomach. His hat, a victim of a crime it never deserved to be part of, somehow dislodges itself from his head and ends up a couple feet away from them.

For a moment that feels like forever, the two ten-year-olds lay there in a tangle of short, bony limbs. Craig thinks that there's snow down the back of his coat.

When Tweek scrambles upright, he waves podgy fingers in front of Craig's face and babbles something indecipherable about brain haemorrhaging, and bits of broken ribs puncturing lungs. All the skinnier boy does is turn his head to look up at Tweek properly, prodding at one of his cheeks with gloved fingers where it feels like he's got a nasty scrape.

Thinks sorta numbly that it stands to reason he'd find Tweek accidentally tackling him kinda… leg wobbly-ing. His tummy's doing loop-the-loops.

Tweek's twitching reminds him of Stripe the Third. He's all bright colors and bouncy energy and squeakiness – which should, by all known laws of the universe, make Craig feel insanely tired. Or maybe grumpy.

It doesn't, though.

Instead he just lies there, looking up into round, panicky eyes set in a round, panicky pink face, and puts up with escalating yelps and fluttery, fat little hands. He thinks that maybe he was winded when Tweek came hurtling into him, but he's content to quietly wheeze and not mention a word of it.

Eventually, Tweek gets up and trips his way over to Token, asking desperately about whether he's got a torch on his cell phone so that they can shine a light into Craig's eyes and check he's not got a concussion.

Unhindered by the (not so insubstantial) weight that was previously plonked down on his stomach, the lanky boy sits up and dusts himself off. Listens with very little interest to the one-sided conversation happening behind him, and clambers onto stiff legs to go fetch his hat. His ears are stinging from the cold, and it isn't an altogether pleasant experience. Plus he feels weirdly naked without anything on his head.

It's while he's bending down to retrieve his hat that he spots it, peeking out of a shallower spot of snow like its shy.

A hundred bright yellow petals, fanned out like a tiny little mane. Crinkly, raggedy green leaves nipped at by frost, the same exact shade as Tweek's eyes. Small, scrunched up, and totally ignorant of the fact that it's out when it shouldn't be.

Before he knows what he's doing, he's reaching across the ground and taking hold of the bent stalk, tearing it up out of its little hiding spot so it sits in his hand. He looks at it blankly for a moment, like it just climbed out of the frozen soil of its own accord and shimmied its way up onto his glove.

And then, because Token's being dragged over towards him and he doesn't want his friends thinking he's acting like some girl, he shoves the little flower into his pocket. Stands up before they reach him.

"Look, u-use your cell— you, you gotta—  _NNgh_. Gotta move it side to side _slowly_ , in front of his eyes like a doctor." There's much waving going on, and Tweek's all up in Craig's face again.

"I'm fine," Craig says, and sighs as he shakes the snow out from inside his chullo. Great. Now his hair's gonna get damp.

"No!" Tweek wails loud enough that even Clyde, off to the side, looks up from the burial spot of his beloved taco. "You gotta check your— if your pupils are dilating properly, man."

Token looks just as unimpressed as Craig feels. "He's fine."

Craig raises both hands in the universal signal for, ' _What more proof do you want_?'

Tweek peers between them, clearly torn up inside by this turn of events, but kinda shuts up for a moment when Craig pats him stiffly on the arm. He sniffles, and Craig notices just how red his eyes are, like he might start crying.

Shit.

Jaw going slack, Craig looks to Token for help, but receives nothing so much as a shrug. And then he switches to Clyde, who cries approximately ten times a week over dumb stuff like losing a quarter or being called uncool by Bebe Stevens. The brunette is pouting, eyes puffy and snot dripping out of his nose. Craig feels no sense of urgency or panic in the face of Clyde's upset.

Clearly out of luck (and getting fuck all help for his troubles), he turns his attention back to Tweek. Is alarmed to see a single big, fat tear sneak its way out from the corner of his eye. The boy's tugging at his hair like it's going out of fashion.

"Dude, don't cry," Craig says lamely, even as Tweek reaches up and snags his sleeve.

"I— Jesus, see me through this! I nearly killed you," the scruffy blonde says, voice getting progressively wobblier. "I saw you f-all over and I didn't, I didn't think.  _Gah._  Just ran right at you. What if y-you'd snapped your neck and  _died_?"

Unable to answer that zinger with anything even slightly intelligent, Craig just opens and closes his mouth a few times. Face slack and mind blank, he stalls. Gesticulates hopelessly with both hands, thus flapping his hat around. Has absolutely no idea how to deal with this, so he says the very first thing that comes into his head. Declares loudly, despite his very reasonable reservations only a moment ago, "I-  _I found a dandelion_."

And just like that, Tweek stops crying.

They stare owlishly at each other. The blonde's eyelashes are all spiked up from his tears and he smells like the bitter coffee he drank on the way here. Craig feels all the blood in his body rush up to his face.

"Hunh?" says Tweek.

"Er," replies Craig.

(Token, the traitor, uses the distraction to make a hasty retreat. He's  _snickering_.)

"You found a—  _hrnn_ — a dandelion?"

He flounders. "Um... yes?"

A sniffle. The blonde rubs the dampness from his cheek with the back of his sleeve. "Ca-can I see it?"

"Okay?" And then he pulls it out, because apparently his brain's stopped altogether. He's sure the other guys are gonna tease the ever living crap out of him for this later (once they're both done trying to pretend they're not there), but heck, now he's committed to it.

The poor flower's sort of crumpled up where it's been roughly shoved into his pocket, but its petals are all still there, and it's still as obnoxiously bright as ever. They both look down at it for a while, and Craig's not sure what to do to break the awkwardness.

"Huh. It's kinda... ugly," says Tweek eventually, scrunching up his pink nose.

For some reason feeling offended, (probably because he's  _risking his masculinity_  here), Craig scoffs. "No it's not. It's just..." he tilts his head. Squints. One-handedly tugs his chullo back onto his head, so he can straighten out the twisted stalk and the droopy, ruffled petals with both gloved hands. "It's special."

"Dude." The blonde doesn't sound convinced. Craig endeavors to ignore him.

He shoots a glance at the podgy boy, and thinks again that the resemblance between the dandelion and Tweek is kind of uncanny. "It's special 'cause it's tough. It came out in the snow before anything else did."

" _Hrrn_. I dunno, man. I think it's just confused," Tweek says, painfully frank. "Or— or it was, before you killed it."

"No it wasn't." At this point, Craig's defending it purely for the sake of his dignity. "It just... didn't sleep. Because it was making, uhm... it was making sure that the rest of the pond was alright." Like how Tweek's always running around worrying that everyone's gonna die in some freak accident.

This makes Tweek's face scrunch up. He withdraws his hand from his hair and reaches out to very carefully run his fingertips over the little mane of petals. Shoots Craig a look caught somewhere between a grimace and a smile. "Hah. Well, it's still ugly."

(That sort-of smile is enough that Craig's neck starts burning and his legs get all wibbly again.)

"Do— do you want it?" The words blurt themselves out before Craig's even figured out what he's saying.

Tweek visibly boggles. " _Augh_ , what?  _No_."

"If you don't take it, then I'll— I'll feed it to Stripe."

"Oh Jesus man, that's too much pressure! You can't do  _that_. You just said it came out early  _specially_ , and you go and— and then you go feed it to your, your guinea pig?"

"You have it, then. S'not like I  _want_  to give it to him." Shrugging, Craig looks away and just thrusts the flower forwards. "I already said. It's for  _you_."

" _GAH_! Fine!" The words are practically a yelp, but there's something about them that makes Craig look back up.

Tweek's blushing so red Craig's shocked he hasn't spontaneously combusted. He's making a face like he kinda needs the toilet, one fist curled into the bottom of his woolly jumper.

And then, with his free hand, he very carefully takes the half-squashed flower from Craig. Cradles it to his chest like it's something precious, even though a minute ago he said he didn't want it, and that he thinks its ugly.

Oh, Craig thinks, blush matching Tweek's. He's... he's kinda cute, isn't he?

...

Just like that, it starts. In half a years time, the Asian girls will arrive at school one by one, and they'll hear Clyde teasing Craig about the stupid damn flower, and everything will spiral out of control.

But for now, it's simple. It's two ten-year-old boys stood out in the snow, flustered and sort of half-frozen. One of the boys is, coincidentally, actually kind of adorable. That's how Craig will remember it.

(And Tweek, too.)

* * *

January 28  
_Me and the guys went to Starks Pond today. It was just me and Token and Clyde and Craig. It was nice, becuase there was nothing scary going on and i had my coffee. I allmost dropped it but Craig coght it. Hes got really steady hands and even though he doesnt smile im not scared of him. he sometimes gets loud and angry but not wiht me. not really with Any of our group (Clyde or Token I mean) i dont think. Being his freind is good. He even picked this one dandelion that was out alive even in all the snow somehow and gabe it to me wich i didnt get becuase thats a little wierd but thats okay. Im alittle wierd too so we make good freinds. Its on my window sill in a cuo of water an the sun shine._

**Author's Note:**

> gosh ilu guys ;U


End file.
